


Like walls we break down

by Defilia



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Occupied Denmark, WWII
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:01:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defilia/pseuds/Defilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>series of short fics about Denmark during the occupation of WWII.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like walls we break down

“What exactly is this?” he asked, brows raised as he accepted the bundle of clothes from Germany. The anger from before long gone after he’d slammed a wall after a fight with the other nation yesterday. His hand was still bandaged up since his country was too weak to heal himself at the usual pace. He had yelled, raged in a way he hadn’t done since the Kalmar Union. Denmark wasn’t proud of it…

“Can’t you recognize a uniform when you see it anymore?” Prussia asked agitated, obviously holding himself back. Denmark didn’t notice the pleading look Germany gave to his older brother from under that cap as he watched his friend with confusion. In all these years that he’d known Prussia, the nation had never talked to him in that way. Not even when they were at war with each other before. Something was off, most likely the way Prussia’s voice sounded as if it was about to break as he let out another annoyed sigh and looked down at his neatly polished boots.

“Of course I do…but I don’t see the point in this guys?” Denmark admitted while inspecting the cap with that eagle and skull pinned to it. His lips became a little thinner and a frown formed on his face. All this made his stomach clench and turn in the wrong way. His fingers traced the patch with his flag on it and little seams of the heavy fabric in his hands as he spoke up again, eyes now on that round swastika sewn onto the collar. “I-I mean, this isn’t necessary at all since things aren’t that strict here, right?” And a second later Prussia was in his face, eyes glazed and yelling.

“Verdammt Dä, we’re not the ones making the decisions here in case you didn’t notice!”  
Denmark didn’t want to notice how the other’s frame was shaking, how his fists clenched or how Germany put a hand on his shoulder as a hopeless attempt at comfort. He couldn’t help himself when he took Prussia in an awkward sort of embrace; arms around the others back and neck. The German nation tensed up for a second as if he’d expected hitting but after the realisation came of what Denmark was doing he quickly returned the gesture, holding onto his friend tightly. Prussia was weak, nothing more than an annexed nation, just like Austria. Denmark couldn’t even remember the time when Prussia had felt this fragile. He didn’t want to know how weak he must’ve felt in the other’s arms.  
“I know, I know.” Denmark merely hushed when he heard the almost silent whimpers next to his ear. They just stood there for a few minutes; he had no idea how long it was exactly but after a while he opened his eyes and nodded when there was eye contact with Germany.

“The country of Denmark wearing this will give the people the right example.” He sighs, obviously not comfortable with preaching another’s demands with which he isn’t agreeing. Denmark frowns again in Prussia’s shoulder. He lost all the hatred and anger from before and is merely an empty shell now. Hitting Germany in the face like he’d done earlier hadn’t been smart. It had been horribly selfish even. Germany had just accepted his apologies later on, those bruises on his face already healed. And Denmark had been grateful, grateful that the other hadn’t punched back because, unlike Germany, the nation Denmark wasn’t strong enough to heal his wounds overnight anymore.  
“I’ll put it on as soon as I can.”

 

\---

 

“Your beer is piss man.” Prussia exclaims after swallowing the yellow drink whole with much effort. With a loud thud the glass hits the bar and a sigh escapes from his lips. “But everything is appreciated in times of war.” He then adds while hands dig in the pockets of his army coat. Denmark watches him closely as he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, bringing a cigarette to his lips and lighting it under the protecting of the palm of his gloved hand. A long satisfied drag and an even slower exhale. 

“Picked up smoking again?” Denmark asks curiously, raising an eyebrow. He brings his lips back to his glass and he doesn’t get what’s so bad about his beer in the first place. But he doesn’t mention it; Prussia just seems on edge these days and no one can blame him for that. Besides, it can’t be that bad when the German nations already drowned about 4 of those in the past few hours. Still, drinking in the middle of the day because of a curfew of 8 pm feels weird and wrong. 

“As if you’re complaining about it.” The man retorts, offering the blond a cigarette before he could even ask for one. After years of friendship they perfectly tuned to each other under that veil of cursing names and mocking nicknames. The Dane smiles as he sticks the little white thing between his pale lips and bends down for Prussia to light it. 

“They look at me like I’m a traitor you know….” He finally speaks up when he’s almost halfway through his cigarette already. He doesn’t need to define that he’s talking about his people or the moment he was walking through the streets in his new uniform next to Germany. Prussia looks up with an arched eyebrow for a second but he quickly turns to his friend on the barstool. And for the first time that day Denmark notices that Prussia is smirking as he throws the cigarette butt away, not caring where it lands.

“You surrendered within a few hours and walk around in that uniform.” A dreading emphasis on that while his hand lazily motions to the skull on his cap and the swastika sewn into his collar. “What did you expect? Only victors earn their honour and you should know that.” The grin is still on Prussia's face and the Dane wonders how long he can enjoy it before it would be gone again. Honestly, if he had known what it was all about he would’ve fought, just to give Norge a little bit more time but instead they had just waltzed right over him, moving right onto his friend in the North. Denmark being nothing more than a tiny addition to that new Reich. It made him uncomfortable, the way he was degraded to something like that. Back in the days he used to be feared, powerful, a mighty nation no other dared to mess with. Now he turned out to be a silly little country that was so pathetic and unprepared that it had to surrender in merely a few hours. The man sighed, shook his head and noticed that Prussia had never stopped talking in the first place. So he decided to catch up from there, trying to make the best of the things he did pay attention to. 

“-and he likes you way too much. Something about an Aryan race and all his bullshit. Gott I wish that guy would shut up for a minute. West is the perfect example, our big boss couldn’t be more proud with him representing the great nation of Deutschland. And then there is me….” Another swig of beer, more around his face than actually in his mouth.

“He almost wanted to kill me until he found out that that wasn’t possible. Im too awesome for that anyway.” He waves it off, another cigarette already between his lips when he continues to rant. “So he just shoves me to the side. But hey not complaining, I don’t need to do the insane shit that West needs to do…” there is now an pained expression on his face, probably because he just realised the things his brother has to go through with their new boss and because he isn’t allowed to. Prussia would swap places with Germany immediately, The Dane knows this, knows how the other would protect his little brother until the end. Something Denmark failed to do with his family. Before he can say something about it, Prussia snaps him out of his thoughts again. “But oooh how he loves you.” A sudden swap in the tone of his voice; the malice is now dripping from it. 

“Blonde, blue eyes, strong and tall. The special treatment isn’t because you surrendered like a good puppy. He just admires you, our new buddy. Just wanted you in an uniform, to show off the perfect example of how people should be.”  
“I don’t think I should take that as a compliment though….” Denmark answers and both of them swig the last bits of their beer down and Prussia hands him his second cigarette after lighting his.  
“Never said you should.” 

 

\---

 

In the evening he feels sick of all the alcohol and cigarettes consumed in one afternoon and throws up. He’s glad that Prussia isn’t around anymore since the nation would rather laugh instead of pat him on the shoulder while he coughs up everything that was still inside his stomach. Denmark stays like that for a while, just coughing every few seconds before he drops himself next to the cubicle on the cold tile floor, forehead wet with sweat. Through lidded eyes he watches the ceiling turn and wonders if it really was the alcohol that caused this or rather the foreigners on his soil. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first try at fanfinction in English ever....So don't be too hard on my about this.  
> it's still a challenge to get a grip on these characters and i didn't quite make it easier for myself with the WWII setting.
> 
>  
> 
> The whole fic is nothing more than drabbles about Denmark during the occupation. Contact with other nations/people, you get the idea.
> 
> i hope you all can sorta enjoy this


End file.
